when peace rides the
edge of a sword,
clashes of steel
nary a raindrop falls,
blood soaked ground
does not nurture,
withers the rosebud,
malnourished child suckles
the dried nipples of
a dying mother’s
shriveled breasts,
a drop of milk
as elusive as
promised peace.
march in the
merchants of death,
in search of an oasis,
they turned the land
into a desert,
the rosebud long ago
turned to dust,
as the sightless
eyes of the child
scours the heavens,
the charlatans raise
their glistening swords
to the sky,
in paeans to an almighty absent.
somewhere alone in his den,
a poet sheds a
few drops of crocodile’s tears,
the feeling genuine,
an effort futile,
not one heart will be touched,
no parched land made fertile,
no rosebuds will bloom,
no milk shall wet the
thirsty lips,
the world will go its way,
as the seekers of peace,
blinded by hate,
bow their heads at the alters
and dance to the tune of death.
If only the ‘believers’ the ‘saved’ the ‘chosen ones’ would stfu and let the world live in peace. Sick of the hypocrisy of the ‘these good those bad’ brigade, the ‘poets’ and flower people who know, who camp on the moral high ground. Give a man a cause, good or evil, a gun, a god, and he will do untold destruction.
My magnetic poem earlier today is along the same lines.
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Thank you Jane.
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Your words brought the moments alive and the scenes came befor my heart. Life is soterrible for countless people, survival from day to day. Our problems are so trivial but they are probles and we have to face them.
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Than you so much for The beautiful words. Yes, life seems to be so unfair at times and our problems so trivial and then we see people trying to profit from others’ sufferings and we are just mere spectators, nothing makes sense.
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